22 #3
“Are you proud of yourself?” Arden says. I don’t look up at him, just lift a middle finger and groan a muffled leave me alone without raising my head. If I’d wanted a lecture on my behaviour, I’d have called my father. “The constant fighting is unbecoming, and you know it.”
“Get off the floor,” he says once I don’t grace him with a reply. I turn my head towards him. He’s taken his mask off, and his hair is sticking up in every direction. If I point it out, he’d immediately want to find a mirror to fix it, but I like him like this. Messy.
He crouches down to my level, studying my tired face. I can tell he sees through me, past the aggression and upset. Something he caused, because he knows which buttons to press, and he’s proud of himself for it; I could see it in the smirk tugging at his lips.
“You’re so easy to provoke, Saint. You should’ve just given in from the start,” he says, confirming my suspicions. He takes the unopened bottle from my hand and rolls it away, not even sparing it a glance.
“Leave me alone, Richard. Why can’t you just let me be?
” I beg, knowing that going down this road will only lead to damage far worse than what I’d already caused outside.
And if it ends again like it did last time, it will tear me so viscerally apart that my throat is already tightening at the thought.
I am getting ahead of myself and we haven't even really done anything yet.
“For the same reason you can’t,” he replies plainly, with a shrug — as if that alone is reason enough to blow our entire world apart. His hand reaches out, pulling me to my feet, and the air seems to crackle as we stare at each other.
“I don’t want to live any more of my life without you. We have wasted enough time apart that we will never be able to get back and I hate that. We swore it once, and I meant it. From cradle to grave, it’ll always be you and I.”
“Cradle to grave,” I murmur, my eyes transfixed by the fullness of his bottom lip, every part of me aching to close the gap but holding back.
“If we do this, no one can find out,” I press, not realising I am subconsciously leaning in, until we are less than a foot apart.
“I’m not a fool.”
“Perhaps I am. We really are going to hell.”
“I’ll go wherever you are, and if it’s hell then so be it,” he replies, the tip of his fingers lingering on my face.
When I slam my lips against his, I want to make sure the taste of me is the only thing that lingers.
He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist, pebbles forming on my skin as he delicately touches parts of me I never thought he would.
I can’t help but want more than what I am being given.
It leads to me grinding on his hand a little harder, hoping he’ll get it, as I try to unbuckle his pants with my hands but he slows me down.
“The first time we have sex won’t be at a party where I can't even hear myself,” he whispers, giving me one last lingering kiss that gradually drags into biting my bottom lip.
“It’ll be on my bed, in my house, where there’s no chance of anyone disturbing us,” he continues, his slow, seductive words sending a chill running down my spine.
“However, I can give you this,” Arden says, ripping apart my underwear in one yank. Slowly he strokes me up and down and we both fight for control as I use his two fingers to bring myself to climax at the same time he is moving in and out of me.
Once I come, I flop against him. Sweat beads on my forehead. I don’t want to unlatch myself from him, but I know we have to get back out there before anyone notices we’ve been gone too long.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” I say softly. Years of back and forth led to this, to finally being able to put us first and blocking out the noise.
“I knew you’d find your way back home, Saint.” He kisses my shoulder and sets me down.
We manage to make ourselves look presentable in order to leave our little pocket of peace to dive back into a world of people doing no different to what we have been up to.
Everyone has gone back to partying like the fight that happened is another blip in their day, barely paying either of us any attention barring the few glances that are directed our way.
I lift my chin up, not letting anyone think they are getting to me.
It’ll be a cold day in hell before that ever happens.
“Are you feeling okay?” MJ says, embracing me as soon as she spots me, I give her a sharp nod. Making sure not to act any different than I normally will.
“I’m fine. I just want to enjoy the rest of my night.”
“Right… there’s just one more thing,” she winces. “Reste calme, ce n’est pas si grave.” Remember to stay calm, it’s not that bad.
My brows furrow in confusion until she moves to the side to reveal the last person I’ll expect.
“Surprise!” my little sister says, standing there with a big bright smile in her all-white dress, a halo perched on her head and angel wings strapped to her back.
Panic rises within me, anger bubbling as I wonder how on earth my teenage sister managed to travel the distance to this party without our parents noticing.
Her grin begins to wane when she realises the shock on my face isn’t a pleasant one.